


maybe the real treasure is the decade long pining i've had for you

by flyingslipper



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Sinbad is a fool, long haired jafar is a Look and this fic has been in the back of my mind for years now, the rating of the first ch is G but rest will be T
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23498542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingslipper/pseuds/flyingslipper
Summary: Ja'far is too busy to cut his hair, and Sinbad has always been an idiot who is good at hiding his true feelings.aka. Sinbad's years long pining spills over when Ja'far's hair grows super long
Relationships: Jafar/Sinbad (Magi)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 181





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> basically, i'm stressed about a lot of things (the virus is at the moment the least of my worries though) so i kicked my own ass and started to write this. there will be at least three chapters, but maybe more. hopefully i'll be able to update this soon. 
> 
> apologies for all the grammar mistakes. english is not my native tongue, and i struggled a lot with deciding if i should write this in past or present tense. this has not been beta read and i do not have enough patience to read this through to edit all the parts that suck- that is unless there's some big mistake that i accidentally wrote, and if so, please let me know.

It is noon and Ja’far is annoyed. He’s not annoyed that it is noon though; he has nothing against that specific time of day, even though he much prefers the night time. The reason for his annoyance, and probably the reason why his hair is grey, is the man who he has swore to follow and protect.

Sinbad… that incredible man.

That incredibly idiotic man.

Sighing for the hundredth time that day, Ja’far tucks his white hair behind his ear. It’s been a long while since he last cut it. With all the wine suppliers asking for a budget increase, that was first settled four months ago but apparently someone botched it so Ja’far needs to appease the suppliers; the weekly pensions of gardeners and ground keepers not going through for some reason last week; Silver Scorpio Tower needing repairs because Masrur and Sharrkan decided to have a match, thus destroying at least 5% of the training grounds, Ja’far has barely had enough time to answer all the important letters to their alliance countries.

So, it’s been incredibly busy few weeks, and with the tenth anniversary of the founding of kingdom of Sindria looming ahead, this will stay busy.

And Ja’far has three piles of scrolls relating to the big festival that will last for a week that he needs the king’s signature, and while _sure_ he could easily forge Sinbad’s signature, Ja’far needs to know that Sinbad approves all of them.

But the man is nowhere in sight.

Tucking hair behind both of his ears, Ja’far’s steps are fast as he makes his way to the ninth garden near the Purple Leo Tower. The garden is near Sinbad’s sleeping chamber, and since the king is not in his office, even though he _should be_ , nor with any of other generals, Ja’far assumes he has once again escaped to the garden since not many people have the access to the place.

Sun is shining high, but because of the many plush flowers bushes and trees, there is surprisingly many shade spots, and under one of those trees, Ja’far finds his king. It’s a miracle how well he can hide the shortness of his breath and the way his heart skips a beat when he sees Sin, laying on the grass, his turban on the ground next to him, sleeping peacefully surrounded by the pale zinnia flowers.

A soft smile spreads on Ja’far’s face as all he can do is watch Sin sleep. His eyes soften, because no matter how angry and annoyed he gets at the man, he truly does love the man, even when the strong feeling isn’t reciprocated. He has never come forth with the feeling; even when he was too young to even know what the aching feeling in his chest is, he knew better than to talk about it to Sin. Ja’far loves him, and even though he knows nothing will ever happen between them, he does _not_ want to be turned down by Sin, or worse, affect the strong bond they have cultivated over the years.

‘ _But still… I need him to sign those documents.’_

Ja’far’s steps are quiet as he walks up to Sin. Crouching beside him, he stops his hand for a moment before he starts to shake the man awake. Sleeping Sin is one of Ja’far’s favorite Sin; his expression is soft and truthful, and he’s not holding any kind of facade he tends to do even when it’s just the two of them. That is, at least that’s what Ja’far hopes it all is; a charade Sin sometimes forget to put away when the only person to judge him is Ja’far, because if not… The pain of the realization that their platonic relationship isn’t all what he has thought it is, would be too great for him to handle.

So, softly shaking Sin awake and masking all the rumbling feelings he has inside him.

“Sin, wake up”, Ja’far says, and can’t deny the satisfaction of knowing that he is one of the few people who sees this side of the great king Sinbad. “There is a lot of paperwork I need you to look over and sign.”

“No...” Sin moans, crunching his eyes closed. Ja’far grabs a hold of the front of his robe before he can roll over. “I need sleep...”

“It’s noon and it’s your own fault if you didn’t go to bed early last night. Now come, I _need_ you to approve all of the documents, Sin.”

Begrudgingly opening his eye to make a face at Ja’far, Sinbad suddenly blinks both of his eyes open, starting widely at the white haired man. Feeling his face heat up with all the staring, Ja’far brings his left hand over his mouth, the wide sleeves of his robe fortunately covering most of his face.

“W-what? Is there something on my face?” Ja’far averts those golden eyes as they shine brightly even in the shade, now filled with the same wonder they had over ten years ago. Sinbad blinks at him couple more times before opening his mouth – too slowly for Ja’far’s liking. It’s always nervous to be looked at like that, especially if the looker is Sinbad himself.

“Your hair. It’s gotten quite long.”

That is really not something Ja’far was expecting; he really thought that maybe he accidentally stained his face with ink or something. His hands go to the ends of his white hair as a reflex, feeling the hair between his fingers. While the back of his hair has always reached his shoulders, Ja’far has made sure that the front hairs never grow that long because it would just get in the way, but now all of his hair reacher his shoulders.

“Ah… Yes, I’ve been a bit too busy to cut it-- and the polishing for the Great Bell is running low since it wasn’t put in the budget for some reason”, it is now Ja’far’s turn to blink at Sinbad as he just remembers why he needed to dump all of the documents to his king; so that his desk would have enough space to spread out the budget to find all the other mistakes that were made. Why were there so many mistakes to begin with? Ja’far was sure that-- ah, that’s right, he was accompanying Sinbad in Artemyra that month when the budget was being finalized. And Sinbad assured him that everything would be fine….

“…Ja’far? You’re not listening to me are you?” Sinbad is now sitting, waving his hands in front of Ja’far’s face, whose expression has turned from bashful to annoyed.

“You”, Ja’far narrows his eyes on Sinbad who only gulps in response. “Get to your office and sign those documents. I have work to do.”

With that, Ja’far stands up and leaves, though he does a small bow before turning around. No matter what, he still remembers that Sinbad is his king, and no matter their friendship, he needs to be respectful to him.

Only when the moon has started to set Ja’far finally leaves his office. The budget has been fixed, but the relief is only short lived because he needs to start planning the budget for the next few months, since obviously the month the tenth anniversary falls upon will have a week long celebration they need to prepare for.

Sighing, happy that he will get at least few hours of sleep, Ja’far stops in front of the mirror in his sleeping chamber. Taking his keffiyeh off, he frowns at the sight of his hair. It’s way too long for his liking, so he needs to make time tomorrow-- today, to cut it, even though…

Even though… the look in Sinbad’s eyes when he saw Ja’far’s hair almost made the advisor lose his breath for a moment.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter ended up being a lot longer than i intended, but honestly this whole fic is gonna be longer than i had originally planned. there are gonna be at least two more chapters, and i hope i'll be able to update this next week.
> 
> again, i apologize for any mistakes, english is not my first language, and i usually write and edit this when i'm tired

Sinbad had his revelation years ago-- actually it has been almost a decade since that one faithful day which he still remembers perfectly, because while he _may_ be an idiot who forgets things, he’s not an idiot when it comes to Ja’far.

That one day, almost ten years ago when Sinbad was eighteen and they, the Sindria Trading Company, were preparing to establish the kingdom on that Southern island in the middle of the Sea. It was really a small moment, one that only lasted barely five minutes in the evening, but whenever he looks back at that day, it feels like everything was leading up to that moment ever since the morning.

That one morning, Sinbad was feeling extremely sentimental. The dream he had was slowly coming more true each and every day, so to see all of his friends work their assess off; hurrying through the almost-finished palace hallways, sprint from the harbor to bazaar – it’s no wonder the young man’s heart swelled with contentment. It was no longer _his_ dream, it was _their_ dream. And soon, their home.

Sinbad was also very busy that day, he was to be the king of that country, and he needed have his body and mind occupied so that he would not start feeling nervous about his coronation that was also coming up. He spent most of that day at the harbor, making sure that none of their suppliers would back out of their deal on the last minute; and then he had to look through all of the finalized laws and shipping deals; the thought of _home_ swayed in the back of his mind through the entire day.

The word used to make him think of his parents in that small village he grew up in, but over the years it had changed into a picture of Ja’far’s shadow next to his, and then to the sound of his voice whenever his eyes did _that thing_ where they become so _soft_ and _beautiful_.

So, yeah, maybe Sinbad should’ve realized it a lot earlier, but Ja’far at that moment was only fourteen, so it’s not his fault that he didn’t realize how drastically his feelings had changed over the years of traveling together.

That evening, Sinbad was tired from all the running around, but… he was happy. Leaning against a railing in what would later be named Purple Leo Tower, he enjoyed the setting sun as it painted the whole island in the warm orange hue. Even then, his mind tracked back to _home,_ and how his feelings stirred at the thought of walking through the palace halls as a king with Ja’far by his side.

It was then when that said boy called out Sinbad’s name, and Sinbad really thought he was dreaming at first, because there was Ja’far, in what would become his Sindria’s parliamentary official clothing. The cream colored robes with dark green accents hid his body well, but he looked so soft and almost ethereal in that warm lighting; that green keffiyeh only brought out his pale skin and the hint of green in his black eyes.

Ja’far smiled at him, and asked him if he was tired and if he was, he should go to sleep because tomorrow would be even more hectic, and all Sinbad was able to say was “Yeah.”

That moment wasn’t his finest moments, but he’s still pretty sure Ja’far had no idea the reason for his quietness was _Oh_ and _Huh_ , instead of him being tired. Ja’far had cocked his head at Sinbad, wondered if he had had a sunburn, but then decided that he needed to look over tomorrow’s plan so he said quick goodnight and turned away.

There he had left Sinbad, whose only thought at the moment was, “Oh.”

So that was the moment when Sinbad realized he was in love with Ja’far; assassin turned into his friend, friend turned into his best friend, best friend turned into his idea of a _home_. Person, who by all accounts, only felt platonically towards Sinbad.

Staring at the ceiling, now twenty-eight years old, the king of Sindria groans. He really should be sleeping, but his mind won’t rest because _Ja’far has let his hair grow and it already reaches his shoulders_ and he really has no right to look that beautiful. Slapping his face, Sinbad wonders if he should forget sleep and go get a drink since drinking and flirting with women has been his go-to to forget his feelings for his advisor, but…

‘ _Ja’far will have my head if he finds out…’_

Running his fingers through his hair, it’s not easy to ignore the ache in his heart when he’s alone in his bed at night. Everyone’s been telling him to get a wife and start a family, and Ja’far has been at the forefront of that, but how could Sinbad say “I don’t want a wife because none of them are like you, Ja’far” without freaking out the other man? Ja’far has never showed any sort of romantic interest to anyone, and while Sinbad likes to joke about how the white haired man loves work more than their family, it sometimes really feels like that.

Turning on his stomach, Sinbad hopes that if he presses his face into his pillow with enough force, he will fall asleep and _not_ think about his repressed feelings towards his best friend. He really meant to come clean about them when Ja’far turned eighteen, but by then Sinbad had already hidden his true feelings for four years so he had no idea _how_ to say them, and besides, he knows how loyal Ja’far is to him, and the last thing Sinbad wants is Ja’far to be with him because he thinks its his duty or something – if they ever were together, Sinbad wants Ja’far to be with him because their feeling of romantic love would be mutual, but alas.

The next few weeks are even more hectic than the last and Sinbad only sees Ja’far during their daily morning briefings with the occasional glimpses whenever he’s strolling through the palace. It’s agonizing, but it’s not like Sinbad’s just laying around doing nothing; he needs to entertain the diplomats from one of Heliohapt’s main port cities, as well as answer to Balbadd’s inquiry about the updated fish supplying laws of the Seven Seas Alliance that will come into action later this year.

Sinbad is, however, very aware of the fact that Ja’far has _not_ cut his hair, and that it just keeps growing. The keffiyeh hides the long hair well, but Pisti (who is the main supplier of all the latest information about Ja’far since she has always loved his hair, long or not) has said that whenever she goes to the kitchen in the middle of the night, she passes by the office where she sees Ja’far, who works till mornings way too many times, without the headdress on.

Apparently Ja’far’s hair already reaches below his shoulders, but he keeps it on a low, messy bun to keep the hairs out of his face.

Now, Sinbad would like to have the record know that he _does not_ have some sort of long hair kink, _but_ there is just something about Ja’far whenever he lets his hair grow. Maybe it’s because he rarely sees the other man without the keffiyeh, but Sinbad has to physically stop himself from touching his hair whenever Ja’far isn’t wearing anything on his head. That maybe a bit weird, but Sinbad just can’t help himself when it comes to Ja’far; like not stopping himself from saying something stupid that he knows Ja’far will not like, because the reactions are just too good to pass by.

As Sinbad is walking to his sleeping quarters, still thinking about the way Ja’far was biting his bottom lip during the morning meeting, he doesn’t even fully realize he’s taking the long route until he’s walking through the halls of White Capricorn Tower. Deciding that he should check if Ja’far is still working, and then hoping that he can convince the other man to go to sleep, Sinbad walks quietly to the slightly ajar office door, peeking in, and feeling his heart make a pathetic skip in his chest.

The candle light only illuminates a small part of the desk and the scroll, but its glow brings a warm hue on Ja’far’s pale skin, lighting the green in his dark eyes. He’s concentrating on the document in front of him, but his expression is a lot softer than his usual stressed one, and he has apparently decided to wear his hair down, and Sinbad cannot look away from the soft white waves; the ends curling upwards, shifting with every small movement.

He stands behind the door like that for a good minute, unable to move or make a sound, not wanting to break the peaceful scene. The candle flame moves with Ja’far’s soft breathing; warm light dancing on his features. Sinbad really feels like he actually went to bed already and all of this is just the figment of his dream, but he’s sure that if this was a dream, he wouldn’t feel the ache in his chest for not being able to go up to Ja’far and hold him to his chest.

“Ja’far”, Sinbad finally gathers enough confidence to break the moment, his voice a lot softer than usual. When the other man blinks and looks up at him, a hopeless smile forms on Sinbad’s face. “It’s late, and I know- I know, the anniversary is coming up so there’s even more work than normal, but I don’t want you to overwork yourself more than you usually do.”

Ja’far must be really tired because he’s not talking back right away. Instead, he seems to just then acknowledge the weight of the dark circles under his eyes, and his gaze falls to the document in front of him.

“I’ll just… finish this one”, Ja’far finally mumbles out, and Sinbad knows that if he were to accept that answer, the other man would be writing documents while sleeping at the desk.

Sighing and quickly strolling to Ja’far, Sinbad takes the quill from his hand – it’s a lot easier to do when Ja’far is this tired – and blows the candle out. Wrapping his arms under Ja’far’s shoulders, Sinbad easily lifts the smaller man, holding him in his arms. The white haired man’s eyes fall close, and only after few seconds he’s already asleep.

‘ _You and Yamu are way too much alike when it comes to working...’_ Sinbad can’t help but think of the similarities of his two most trusted generals-- though Yamu overworks herself because of her curiosity of learning new things, while Ja’far overworks because… well, probably because Sinbad doesn’t really do his work.

“Yeah… maybe I should get on with that...” Sinbad mumbles as he walks towards Ja’far’s sleeping quarters, the moonlight illuminating the quiet hallways. Sinbad _could_ take Ja’far to his bed – it has happened before when the king has also been super tired and not wanting to walk anymore, he just took Ja’far to his bed, leading Sinbad having the best sleep of his entire life – but he’s not in the mood for causing a commotion the first thing in the morning. Ja’far tends to yell at him whenever Sinbad makes him actually sleep more than few hours.

Fortunately though their quarters are very close to one another, so once Sinbad lays Ja’far under the covers (taking his keffiyeh, shoes and the robe off, adjusting the soft white hair on the pillow so that it won’t be in so many knots when he wakes up), he quietly shuts the door behind him and strolls to his own quarters, falling face first onto his own bed.

The softness of Ja’far’s hair lingers on the tips of Sinbad’s fingers till the next day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do not be fooled by the length of this chapter. it's all halfassed. 
> 
> i got super distracted by the new animal crossings game when i first started to write this chapter, and also i sprained my ankle today so while i was re-writing this whole chapter because i wasn't satisfied with anything, i tried to not think about the huge debt i owe to tom nooks and how many ugly villagers i have, and the pain every time i even slightly move my ankle. 
> 
> this did get a lot longer than i intended tho. i have never written a romance story with mutual pining, or a story where there's a lot of dialogue (yes, to me even this is a lot), so i'm just trying to figure out what works and what doesn't. i do hope to get better at writing romance, but it's hard when i've been mostly just writing about teenagers who focus on staying alive and making friends instead of finding that one person. 
> 
> this is not the best and things will make more sense next chapter, which i hope i can get done next week since i can't physically really move at the moment. happy may day.

Short white strands of hair delicately float down to the marble floor of Ja’far’s sleeping chamber. The man has an annoyed scowl on his face as he holds the last part of his front hair above his head while his other hand is holding one of his darts. With a swift movement, his hair is cut, and he can see clearly again. Standing up, Ja’far brushes any stray hair off his clothes; he has a lot to do today, and he can’t be seen with hair strands all over his clothes – he’s the king’s advisor after all. Even though he’s never been one to really care for looks, Ja’far knows that as a Sindria’s parliamentary official, it’s important to always look put together.

Taking a look at himself on the mirror, Ja’far nods to himself. His front hair was getting way too long, so he had to cut it – but he doesn’t have the time to even think about the rest of his hair – which now reach down to his chest.

Sighing, he takes a black string from his bedside table and holds it between his teeth while he gathers the rest of his hair together. This is quite a new development in his morning routine; to tie up his hair into a low (and quite messy if he’s being honest) bun which he can still easily hide under his keffiyeh. Ja’far isn’t even really thinking about anymore, this has just become one of those trivial things he needs to do before starting his day; it’s easy to forget how long his hair is when its hidden majority of the time.

His footsteps are quick as he strolls through the wide hallways. The sun hasn’t even risen yet so he has few hours of work time before he needs to go wake up Sinbad.

The thought of his king brings uncomfortable feelings up in Ja’far’s heart. Lately, the man has been staring at him a lot more; glances that always last a second longer than usual, those golden eyes staying on Ja’far’s face with a weird look in them. It’s like Sinbad is searching for something in Ja’far that he has once lost; it almost feels like longing. It almost makes Ja’far happy.

It’s nice, don’t get him wrong; Ja’far can’t help but feel glad that his king is paying attention to him, but at the same time, it’s killing him. To be looked at like that by Sinbad… All Ja’far wants to do is to look back at him, hold his face in his hands and bring their lips---

‘ _Stop. Don’t think about that.’_

Squeezing his eyes closed to get rid of those kinds of thoughts and that ever present headache in his temples, Ja’far opens the door to his office and closes it shut behind him. Letting out a breath, his right hand comes to clutch the fabric over his heart, and if Ja’far didn’t have any dignity left, he would let his knees give out, and glide down to the floor.

Try as he might, all Ja’far can think about is the scene from yesterday; Sinbad practically bathing in the setting sun’s light, his golden eyes soft as he looked over the balcony, admiring the kingdom. He didn’t have his turban on, but the sun made his hair glow with gold, his tanned skin basking in the warmth... Sinbad really has no right to look so beautiful.

A dreamy look on Ja’far’s face quickly turns into a sad one when the well known pain reappears.

Dreams are meant for sleeping. Him and Sinbad will never be together. Ja’far has made (relative) peace with that fact the moment he realized what his feelings were for his king; he was sixteen, and Sinbad was away – somewhere making trade deals with city leaders while Ja’far was left to hold the fort at the Sindria Trading Company. He felt so alone, even though Hinahoho, Rurumu and everyone else were there. Ja’far did his duty, but all he wanted was to be wherever Sinbad was; he wanted to be beside him; be the person the future king tells his secrets; Ja’far wanted to be _that_ person for Sinbad.

Rurumu and Hinahoho had told Ja’far many times why they loved each other; the white haired boy was at the time too young to really understand what love even was, and when he finally realized it, it wasn’t a dramatic scene. Ja’far was putting signed documents away, and then – bam. The strong and messy feelings he felt towards Sinbad weren’t just ordinary, platonic friend feelings. They were love.

But, Ja’far is a realist, he knows what must happen. Sinbad is a king; he needs a wife who will bear an heir to him, and the reality of that always manages to bring tears into the advisor’s eyes. Shaking his head, wiping the already-formed tears away, Ja’far pushes himself off the door. He has a lot of work to do; the anniversary week is getting closer and closer – he can’t waist time wallowing in his pathetic sadness.

‘ _Besides… whoever is the lucky woman to have Sinbad fall in love with them – I_ will _be happy for them. No matter how much it hurts, I will support and protect them. If they mean a lot to Sinbad, then they will mean a lot to me too.’_

.

“… the budget is finally ready for the anniversary week. All contracts with suppliers have been finalized, so I just need you to review and sign them”, Ja’far reads through his list. He is standing in Sinbad’s office where the purple haired man has been spending a surprising amount of time – Ja’far hasn’t had to chase the king down and drag him back to do his work. When he lowers the scroll, lifting his dark eyes to look at Sinbad who has been quiet for a long time, Ja’far’s annoyance takes over his bashfulness. “Sin, are you even listening to me?!”

Sinbad is resting his chin on his hand as he’s leaning on his desk, his golden eyes staring at Ja’far-- even though it feels like they’re somehow staring past _and_ right into him.

“Yeah, everything’s ready”, the king finally says, blinking, and he immediately goes back to his… Ja’far would only describe the look as “contemplative”, but before he can say anything else, Sinbad speaks up again.

“I can’t believe it’s been ten years.”

Ja’far lets out a breath, because – yeah. If you had asked the advisor how long he has been by Sinbad’s side, he would say, _Forever_ , and, _A second_.

“It has been a long time…” Ja’far can’t contain his soft smile when he thinks about Sindria – the dream that was once only Sinbad, but soon turned into their all dream – and then into reality. His eyes find their way to Sinbad; the man who has made this all possible; the man who brought the ragtag family of theirs together and gave them a place to call home. “Sindria is truly is a one of a kind.”

“Yeah”, Sinbad hums in agreement, a lazy smile etched on his face. Suddenly, something flashes in those golden eyes; the peaceful and content expression turns into a sour one. Ja’far doesn’t say anything, he just tilts his head, knowing that if he were to interrupt Sinbad’s thinking and ask him what’s wrong, the man would plaster a smile on his face and say it’s nothing. He has a habit of not telling his advisor things Ja’far definitely should know because you know, that is literally Ja’far’s _job_. ‘I didn’t want to bother you with my problems- I know I tend to cause those to you unintentionally a lot’ Sinbad always says with sheepish smile and guilt in his eyes when Ja’far finally finds out.

A flock of birds fly past the king’s office window, the fluttering sound of their wings brining memories of the sea waves clashing against the ship while Ja’far had trouble falling asleep because Sinbad’s arms are too tight around his small body. The white haired man still has no idea how Sinbad was able to sleep so soundly when Hinahoho snored like-- well, like an Imuchakk.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Sinbad lifts his gaze to Ja’far, who manages just in time to avert his gaze to the scroll in his hands. Heat starts to creep up on his cheeks, and he hopes the purple haired man didn’t notice how long he looked at him.

“So, I was thinking”, Sinbad starts and Ja’far prepares himself, and the kingdom of Sindria, for the worst because nothing good ever comes when the king starts his sentences like that. “… I was thinking that, since the whole country basically stops for the anniversary week, what will you be doing, Ja’far?”

Ja’far internally sighs in relief – he had really thought that Sinbad was gonna propose some stupid idea that Ja’far would eventually agree to – because hey, this is Sinbad – but fortunately it’s just a simple, though quite random, question.

“By your side, of course”, he answers, nodding, and even though Ja’far already knows how agonizing it will be to have a front row seat to Sinbad flirting and laughing with many of the beautiful dancers that the kingdom has, he will not abandon his duty – which is to make sure that nothing bad happens to the king. “--Though, on the first day I will have to check up on all the suppliers and the staff to make sure that the rest of the week will go smoothly. Spartos will assist you while I’m not there, so there is no need to worry about being alone.”

A smile, though it looks a bit exasperated, forms on Sinbad’s face. He nods, as if he knew what Ja’far was going to say, though hoping for different answer, Sinbad asks, “Ja’far, I’m just going to ask you directly because I fear we might be stuck in this conversation till night if I try to be subtle: are you going to take part in the celebrations? Like, for an example--”

“Sin, big parties like this are prime time for any assassination. It is my duty to make sure that _you_ , our king, will not die while you’re… you’re having fun”, Ja’far interrupts Sinbad, not even wanting to know what the other might insinuate. Even though his assassin days are long behind him, Ja’far does remember everything he was taught; and a person like Sinbad is definitely in many hit lists, so Ja’far will not have that big of a change in his daily routine. Someone needs to keep a close eye on their king.

That, and Ja’far isn’t a big fan of discussing his personal, romantic, life with anyone – especially with Sinbad.

The king sighs, and seems like he is both happy and defeated at the same time. Ja’far leaves him after that; there is still a lot of work to do, and he needs something to distract him from wondering if Sinbad meant something more with his questions.

.

The tenth anniversary of the kingdom of Sindria finally arrived, and Ja’far spent the first day away from Sinbad. Not intentionally-- okay, maybe _a little_ intentionally, but he really doesn’t want to bring down his mood by watching Sinbad laugh and flirt with many beautiful ladies – though Ja’far did have an actual reason too. He had to make sure that all the guests were looked after, and that everything went smoothly – because the first day is always the most important one.

Today is the second day of the anniversary week, and because the whole country is basically stopping all of the work, Ja’far doesn’t have anything to do. Well, of course there is _always_ work to be done, but it’s kind of pointless when no one else is working.

“Why do I even try…?” Ja’far sighs, looking at himself in the mirror. He’s standing in front of a big mirror in his sleeping chambers, staring at the mess that is his hair. It really has gotten out of hand. His dark eyes scan over the long, and surprisingly wavy, white hair that now reaches his waist – and it’s quite puffy too. Ja’far’s been too busy with work to pay attention to his hair, and since his keffiyeh used to cover all of it, he hadn’t even realized _just_ how long it has gotten.

He’s definitely not going to be able to hide it under his headdress – even if he were to braid it and/or put it on a low bun.

Pale hand takes a hold of the hair, but Ja’far doesn’t bring his darts out. His hair is soft, long and puffy – like a mix between him, Rurumu and Sinbad; Ja’far’s hair color, Rurumu’s softness and puffiness, and Sinbad’s length.

Celebratory cheers coming from outside bring Ja’far back to reality. Frantically looking around, he grabs the black string that will definitely not hold all of his hair, Ja’far bites the string between his teeth as he fights with his hair – finally able to form it into a big, low bun. He’s not sure how long it will hold, but when he turns around in the mirror, it looks like it’s not even under his keffiyeh, so it will do.

Swiftly making his way to where the celebrations are held, he can hear the lively music and smell the alcohol even before he can see anyone. But Ja’far stops right before he steps out of the tall pillars’ shadow. His eyes always find Sinbad first and he’s not sure what he was excepting; seeing the king laugh while a beautiful woman is sitting in his lap is nothing out of the ordinary. Still, it prevents Ja’far from taking any step forward.

He knows that it will never happen. He knows that he will learn to love Sinbad’s future wife and child. He knows he should be happy to see his king enjoy the celebration of his kingdom.

Yet Ja’far turns away without much thought, hiding his hands in his big sleeves, and before he knows it, he’s standing in one of the gardens in the Purple Leo Tower. The garden is on the other side of the palace where the celebrations are – on the side that will greet the moon first. Ja’far can’t even hear the loud music from here.

Standing in the middle of the garden; the green bushes, leaves and grass now painted in a blue hue, Ja’far bites his lower lip, lifting his gaze into the dark sky, now filled with many blinking stars and a glowing moon. He shouldn’t cry; he rarely does anyway. Unfortunately Sinbad is always the reason for his tears; good or bad.

It sucks. It sucks so much to be in love. It shouldn’t – Rurumu always said that when it comes to love there is always pain, but the good will always shine brighter than the bad. In her defense though, she was always talking about mutual love.

Ja’far sighs, trying his best to collect himself. He knows that Sinbad will never love him the way he loves him; Ja’far will never experience the same kind of love that Rurumu and Hinahoho had; Ja’far knows that for him, there will be no one else but Sin.

“Here you are, I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Ja’far almost chokes as he swallows his own spit, bringing his face down to the sleeves to check if he has been crying. Turning around, bringing the usual calm expression on his face, Ja’far turns to look at his king, hoping that his eyes won’t glisten in the moonlight too much.

Sinbad has his arms crossed, and he’s leaning against the entrance to the garden. He’s not wearing any of his metal vessels (he doesn’t need to when Ja’far is beside him-- which he hasn’t been today, but Spartos isn’t a big drinker, so he has been somewhat guarded) and Ja’far can tell that he has been drinking, though surprisingly not a lot. There isn’t even a reddish glow on his cheeks that is usually there.

“Ah, yes… I apologize for being absent from the celebration, I just-- had to check up on some work”, Ja’far bows his head a little, hoping that Sinbad will accept the little white lie that he usually does. The words, _‘I’ve been looking all over for you’_ echo in his mind.

“I know that you’re not big on these-- well, _any,_ kind of parties, but this is the tenth anniversary of our kingdom. I wish for you to at least loosen up a little, and not worry about things. Sleep if you must”, Sinbad says, walking up closer to him.

“I am feeling a bit… tired, so I will be here”, Ja’far brings his sleeves in front of his face, “You should go back to your people, my king. You shouldn't be absent of this celebration.”

“I think they can survive one night without me there”, Sinbad says softly, bringing his hand to Ja’far’s face, twirling one of his loose strands around his finger. Ja’far fears his heart might leap out of his chest. “You’ve really let your hair grow, haven’t you?”

A blush covers Ja’far’s face when he feels Sinbad’s hand so close to his face. Maybe the king has drank a lot more than he thought – maybe that’s the reason why he’s suddenly so close to him, doing something like this. The tanned hand brushes against ear, and Ja’far hopes to God he was able to hide the hitch in his breath.

“It must be very long at this point, yeah? I know you haven’t had the time to get it properly cut, and I remember how long your hair got when you didn’t cut it for two months when we were building Sindria”, Sinbad continues, looking almost infatuated at the white strand of hair, seemingly not noticing – or not caring – the heat on Ja’far’s face. “It has been now, what, at least three months? I wonder how you are able to keep it hidden so well.”

“I-I… Sin, you really should return to the party. The… the dancers surely must miss your presence”, Ja’far stutters. He really shouldn’t react like this- this isn’t something new; Sinbad has always been physically affectionate person – back when they were kids, he would always hug people, lay a hand on their shoulders while passionately talking about his grand idea of founding a kingdom. Ja’far has usually been on the receiving end of those things; they used to always sleep together on the same bed to save room; Sinbad would always lean his body against Ja’far’s much smaller one, claiming that he’s tired and that Ja’far should let him rest.

Yet now, when it’s just two of them in this moonlit garden, away from everyone, Ja’far can’t calm down his beating heart.

Sinbad scoffs, “Are you so eager to be away from me?”

There is anger in his voice, but Ja’far knows him well enough to hear the unsaid sadness.

  
“N-no! Of course not, my king. But this celebration is for the country and you’re the king, so-”

“And what will you be doing if you’re not going to be beside me?”

That question almost throws Ja’far off-balance. He opens his mouth but closes it right after, looking like a fish trying to breathe out of water. Why is Sinbad asking that? Why does he sound so bothered, like Ja’far has done something wrong? Why is his other hand now holding Ja’far by the waist?

“I… Sin, what are you on about?” he finally manages to ask, his confusion overpowering the nervousness of being held so close by his best friend. His question seems to bring Sinbad out of his thoughts; all this time his golden eyes haven’t left from his white hair, and as they shift to look into Ja’far’s dark ones, they soften a bit.

“Never mind that”, Sinbad sighs, offering a small smile to him. “I just…” he starts, but gets sidetracked when his gaze shifts back to the loose strand that’s resting against Ja’far’s cheek. “I would just like to know the real reason for you letting your hair grow.”

It’s really a wonder how Sinbad can change Ja’far’s mood so quickly. First it was sadness, then surprise, shyness and nervousness, confusion, and now even _more_ confusion! The way his mind works is something Ja’far will never understand, even if he wants to; he thinks he knows his king, but then he throws curveballs like these in his face, expecting it to make sense.

“I’ve seen how others look at you”, Sinbad continues, “How they keep glancing at you whenever some of your hair falls to your face.”

“Huh?” is all Ja’far can say, his mind not fast enough to understand what Sinbad means. “Are other people really paying that much attention to it?”

He doesn’t want to even _think_ about saying out loud ‘you think I grew out my hair because I want people to notice me’ - that sounds so ridiculous because they are talking about _him_. Has Sinbad really been drinking too much?

“You haven’t noticed? That’s why you had to repeat next month’s budget plan three times during the meeting – everyone was too caught up when some of your hair got loose and peeked under your headdress”, Sinbad purses his lips, and a flash of possessiveness shows in his eyes. After saying that, he seems to come to his senses of what he has just said, but before he can say anything else, Ja’far steps away from him.

“Then I will go cut my hair right away”, Ja’far stutters, panicking a bit, trying his best to rush past his king. He had no idea that him neglecting his haircare would cause something like that. Is that also the reason for the contract negotiations with the meat suppliers lasting two days longer than intended? And the documents being full of spelling errors? Has Ja’far’s hair really caused all of the troubles? Why hasn’t anyone told him that?! If Sin noticed all of this, why didn’t he tell him to cut his hair?!

“Wait-- please don’t!” Sinbad turns around, his fingers trying to grasp Ja’far’s arm, and it is right then when the black string holding his overgrown hair decides to break. The keffiyeh falls to the ground with the small string, and now Ja’far’s hair is loose and out in all of it’s glory.

He doesn’t know what to say. This whole situation is embarrassing for him; causing so much trouble without even knowing it; Sinbad throwing random questions at him out of the blue; finally realizing just how close they were standing… Ja’far turns to look at Sinbad, ready to apologize for all the trouble he’s caused and that he was foolish to not cut his hair sooner, but all the words die at his throat when he sees his king.

Sinbad’s mouth his a little ajar; his golden eyes shining in the moonlight, looking at him like he's a mountain of treasure at the end of a dungeon - a sight only few people will experience in their lives. Yet, there is a gentle sadness in the depth of those warm yellow orbs, and Ja’far can feel all his blood rush into his head when he hears Sinbad breathe out,

“I love you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the major reason why i'm late updating this is because i rewrote this chapter two times and i'm still not happy how it ends, but this fic isn't a +50k word slow burn pining fic, so. 
> 
> there's only one chapter left!!! i swear i'll be on schedule with that one haha

Groaning, Sinbad pushes himself away from his desk. He’s been writing and reading documents the whole day, even having lunch and dinner in his office, so when he finally has time to stretch his back, he feels like an old man. Brushing his bangs with his fingers, Sinbad looks outside through one of the windows and sighs when he sees that the setting sun is saying its last goodbye; the sky is almost fully dark blue now, instead of warm orange. 

The tenth anniversary week starts tomorrow, and since Sinbad is the king, he’s supposed to greet all of the diplomatic visitors arriving in the morning. That will probably last from morning to late afternoon, but unfortunately he won’t be free yet – he needs to hold a speech in front of all of his people, entertain his quests for an hour or so, and then, finally, the real celebration begins. It’s a lot of work, but he knows that he has the easiest job. 

Sinbad can’t contain the proud smile forming on his face as he walks to his sleeping chamber, thinking about his kingdom. So many people are working hard for the kingdom, to make the anniversary week the best there is so that they too, can celebrate the founding of the country that they call home. Even though most of the citizens aren’t native Sindrians; only majority of the children are, but to the king, all those who have made their home here, or will make their home here in the future, are all Sindrians, no matter where they come from. This kingdom was founded by a mismatched bunch that included an orphan child born in a small village in Parthevia, an illiterate child assassin, a treasonous general that assimilated into a dragon, a cowardice Imuchakk warrior, and the oldest son of a stiff religious leader. Everyone, no matter their history, is welcome to make their home here; to start a new life. 

.

But, as much as Sinbad likes to be the king, he doesn’t find most of the kingly duties fun; like greeting and entertaining the important guests on the first day. The only spark of light he has is in the morning when Ja’far is by his side, but after lunch, the advisor is nowhere to be seen since he’s running around the kingdom, making sure that everything goes smoothly. 

It’s nice – to know much much Sindria means to Ja’far; how much effort he puts in his work to make sure that everyone is happy, but Sinbad really wishes that he’d delegate his tasks to other officials more. He’s sure there are plenty of parliamentary officials who can double check that everything goes smoothly in the kitchen, the chief general shouldn’t need to do that.

But Sinbad does have fun; drinking and eating with his friends is something he always enjoys. The long table is filled with laughter in the evening, all of the generals too busy chatting with whoever is sitting next to them, not noticing how quiet the king has gotten. Sinbad leans back on his chair, enjoying the rare moment when no one is paying attention to him. Still, there’s a smile on his face as his eyes scan his surroundings, an uncontrollable feeling of happiness spreading in his heart, seeing so many happy faces. 

That is- until his eyes land on Ja’far. He has a habit of searching his advisor without even meaning to; his golden eyes always looking for that cream colored keffiyeh with green accents. Sinbad does that because his advisor is usually always somewhere close by; which is a nice and comforting feeling, to know that he is always there. Ja’far really is beautiful – he doesn’t even need the sun or the moon’s light to show how beautiful he is – it’s always a pleasure to just look at him no matter the place or time-- though not this time. 

Sinbad’s eyes narrow, and all of the loud noises around him fade when he sees his advisor talking to one of the diplomats from Heliohapt. Ja’far has leaned down to talk to the sitting man, and for everyone else it might look like nothing out of the ordinary, Sinbad can clearly see the way the diplomat’s eyes travel up and down on Ja’far, who is doing his usual bowing – thus not noticing anything. It’s quite irritating how submissive Ja’far makes himself whenever he talks to all those important people; how he makes himself and his position seem small compared to them even though he literally is the chief general of Sindria, but the reason for that may be the aftereffects from his assassin days, and trying to butter up wealthy people to buy Sindria Trading Company’s goods as a kid.

Ja’far smiles, and it’s the one smile Sinbad has seen countless times before; the white haired man’s eyes squinting as he smiles softly, offering a gentle and respectful laugh, agreeing with whatever the diplomat has said. Jealousy floods in the king’s veins, and he turns his gaze away from them with little success – in a matter of a second, his eyes find their way back to Ja’far. 

The diplomat seems to be feeling quite bold; maybe it’s from the alcohol or maybe he’s always like that, since he grabs a hold of Ja’far’s arm when the advisor is pulling himself away, probably ready to go talk to other guests. In all other cases, Sinbad would leave his seat now, quietly and quickly making his way to his advisor, subtly pulling him away from their guest, throwing some half-truth and a smile, directing their attention to anywhere else than his Ja’far, but the king’s attention is needed elsewhere; two dancers have comeback from their performance, both of them sitting beside Sinbad. 

He smiles and laughs, flirts with the ladies, and entertains his guests at the table, but with every chance he gets, Sinbad’s golden eyes find Ja’far still talking to that Heliohapt diplomat, and it takes all of his self control to not frown at the sight. 

.

The second day is a bit better – if you don’t count the massive headache he has in the morning from drinking so much last night. Alcohol proves, once again, to be the king’s go-to whenever he wishes not to think about his advisor and his feelings towards him. 

Sinbad doesn’t have to be super polite to all of his guests since most of them are either trying to survive a bad hangover while others are touring the kingdom, and to be honest, Sinbad’s not sure if he could even pretend to be civil to that one Heliohapt diplomat who took all of Ja’far’s time yesterday. 

Today, the king can just laugh with his friends-- though his most trusted and loved advisor is not there. It’s already late evening- well, night, he supposes since the moon is high up in the sky, and while Sinbad did see Ja’far during morning and day, they didn’t really get downtime with just the two of them. Looking around him, his arm around the dancer sitting on his lap loosens when she leaves since it’s time to dance again – Sinbad being the only one not paying attention to the beautiful movements of the dancers – his eyes catch a glimpse of the cream colored robes of his best friend, walking away from the celebrations. 

Not thinking twice about it – Sinbad rarely does that when it comes to Ja’far – the king stands up, silently making his way to the dimly lit hallways. The moon is high up in the sky, its light illuminating the wide and high palace walls. Sinbad is not sure why he’s not calling after Ja’far; it’d be a lot easier to catch up to him than silently following him, loosing the sight of his advisor after the third left turn. 

The king stands there for a moment, alone in a big hallway as alcohol buzzes in is veins, moonlight shining through the big arched windows, and he can’t help but feel pain in his heart. The scene from yesterday is too clear in his mind; the deep jealousy he felt, how Sinbad just wanted to cave in to his possessiveness over Ja’far and just take him away from the other man… But, there is that very quiet, very faint voice inside him, feeding his biggest fear;

Would Ja’far want to leave him? 

Ja’far has never shown any interest of starting a family or even getting a spouse, but the chance is always there. What if Ja’far falls in love with someone who is not him? Sinbad doesn’t even want to think about it, even though he knows he’s being the worst friend ever being like that. But what if Ja’far falls in love with someone who is from another country- say, like from Heliohapt? Would Ja’far then leave Sindria to live there? 

Sinbad hasn’t drank as much wine today like he did yesterday, but he can tell that he’s definitely not sober right now, so he should just do his best to shoo these kind of thoughts away-- but Ja’far tends to be one of the only things he ever thinks about. From the moment he wakes up to late nights, even when he’s dreaming, his advisor is always in his mind, with his soft dark eyes, cure freckles, beautiful white hair… 

_Wait--_

Is that the reason why Ja’far has grown his hair long? He says that it’s because he doesn’t have time and now when it’s so long it’s much harder to cut, but could he actually be growing it long, knowing what kind of effect it has on others? 

“No, don’t be stupid, Sinbad...” the king mumbles to himself, still standing alone in the hallway, scratching his neck. That’s such an absurd thing to even think about. No one would do something like that, least Ja’far. 

...But Ja’far has always been the shy type; he wouldn’t put himself out there so openly – he’d do it indirectly, in a way that wouldn’t even seem deliberate. Like growing his beautiful hair long, making everyone’s knees go weak at the sight of him. If that’s the case, then Sinbad should let him know that he doesn’t need to have long hair to do that – the king had a hard time to even think straight when he still had his short hair and was standing a bit too close to him. 

  
“But would he thought…? This is Ja’far…” Sinbad mumbles to himself, forcing himself to continue walking. He knows he’s in the Purple Leo Tower, and he knows Ja’far well enough to correctly guess where his advisor went. Sinbad doesn’t know exactly what he wants, but he’d like to spend time with his best friend, who he now feels like has been avoiding him all of yesterday. 

  
Things go very wrong after Sinbad finds Ja’far in the garden. It’s kinda his fault; alcohol slowing his thought process, him not being able to control himself when he’s finally alone with Ja’far who looks so beautiful in the moonlight.

So here he is, holding Ja’far’s hand, unable to look away from the long wavy locks, how his pale complexion glows in the luminescence; the freckles dotted across his face looking like stars in the night sky, looking almost ethereal--

  
“I love you”, Sinbad breathes out before he can stop himself. He’s not sure what it is, but all his fears and insecurities about his feelings fade away; right now he doesn’t understand why he never had the courage to say those words before. Maybe it’s the alcohol fuzzing his thoughts and ridding his anxieties away; maybe the fear of losing Ja’far to someone else is bigger than he thought; maybe he’s just tired of holding back; maybe he just wants to be happy.

Ja’far doesn’t say anything, but his mouth hangs open, his eyes wide like he’s afraid to speak, fearing what Sinbad means with those words. And it’s like a dam being broken; all of Sinbad’s thoughts, things he has always wanted to say to Ja’far, flood out – he’s already this far, so why not just go all in?

“I love you, Ja’far. I’m in love with you, I-”, Sinbad swallows, still holding Ja’far’s hand. “I’ve been in love with you for-- for a decade now, at least. You’re everything I think about; you’re the only one I want; when I see Drakon and his wife, I keep thinking how much I wish that was you and me; when I see Hinahoho playing with his kids-- I want that, with you. So when I saw you with that diplomat yesterday, I… all I wanted to do was to walk up to you and whisk you away from him.”

A soft breeze passes by the garden, trembling the bushes and the tree branches, but other than that, it’s quiet. Sinbad felt his face get hotter as he spoke, and the heat is not going away when he waits for Ja’far to answer – to say something.

“What… Sin… I...” Ja’far’s finally stutters out, not breaking eye contact with him, but he looks so confused and… not believing his words. “Sin… what are you..”

“Ja’far, please”, Sinbad’s voice is raw as he tugs his advisor close to him before kneeling on the ground. He’s willing to beg if he must – if he’s going to get rejected, Sinbad will only accept it if he’s actually done everything he could. Pressing his head against the soft fabric, he looks at the ground. “The reason why I always reject the marriage proposals is because I only want you. There is no one else for me-- Ja’far… I know I’m not an easy man to live with, but you’ve been by my side for so long, you know me, you know my faults and weaknesses yet you haven’t ran away.”

Sinbad’s heart skips a beat when he feels one of Ja’far’s hand cradle his head. Sighing, readying himself for whatever’s coming, Sinbad continues,

“If… if you don’t feel the same then it’s-- well, I’m not gonna lie, it’s not gonna be fine, but I will respect your decision. Just… give me enough time to--”

“But… you’re a king”, Ja’far interrupts him. “You need a child to be your heir.”

Sinbad lifts his gaze up to Ja’far so fast it’s a surprise he doesn’t break his neck. That wasn’t a no; that was an excuse, and when his golden eyes search his advisor’s eyes, the only thing he can see is worry. 

“Ja’far… if that is the only thing that’s stopping you from being mine, then I hope you know that I am the king; I can appoint the next ruler, they can be whoever I want it to be. Or, we could adopt an orphan-- unless you’re adamant about the next ruler being my child, then I’m sure with enough rukh manipulation I can get you to bear my child.”

Sinbad will not lie; the last option is definitely the one that intrigues him the most, hence why he supports a smirk as he says it. 

“So… what do you say, Ja’far?” he asks, tugging the white haired man’s sleeve, enjoying the blush that’s now covering his whole face. To his surprise, Ja’far sinks down on his knees, his long white hair reaching the green grass. 

“Sin...” Ja’far starts, his eyes clear and shining in the moonlight, full of determination, but he then suddenly gets extremely shy, and looks away from him, bringing his long sleeves to cover up most of his face. “I… do love you, too. I’ve always loved you, but you’re my best friend and king, so I just never… you deserve to be with someone who’s… not an ex-assassin.” 

Sinbad is squeezing his hands into fists, doing his best to listen to Ja’far’s words and not be distracted by how absolutely adorable he looks right now. He nods his head, his golden eyes never leaving from the blush covering his cheeks.

“Ja’far”, Sinbad says, making Ja’far to look back at him – behind the sleeves. “I love you. That’s all there really is to it; you’re literally the only thing I think about, the one I dream about. If anything, I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you-- you’re so kind and good, and you’re always looking out for others...”

“Please stop”, Ja’far mumbles, trying to hide his whole face behind the sleeves. 

“No”, Sinbad rebuts, grabbing his arms and forcibly moving them away. There is something he needs know. “So does this mean you accept my confession? That I can kiss you now?”

“Sin!” Ja’far’s face gets even more red and he averts his intensive gaze.

  
“It’s a yes or no question, Ja’far.”

“...yes.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha rewrote this chapter three times because at first i though about continuing directly from where the last chapter left off but i wasn't satisfied with it so i scrapped it and then decided to write this chapter from the perspective of the other generals but it fell short too, so this is the final product. 
> 
> apologies since this chapter is so short, and if there are any grammar mistakes, my beta reader is me and i don't trust her lol

Warm sunlight shines through the windows, making the thin, white veil glow as it hangs around the big bed. Birds are chirping softly outside, singing their songs to the still waking world, and Ja’far turns around in the bed, pressing his cheek even deeper into the pillow, wanting to face away from the bright light, his long braid pressing against his back. The satin sheets are soft and yet cool against his body; a cream white sheet wrapped around his torso, showing his pale, bare legs. 

Ja’far can sense a hand hovering over him, but he doesn’t move – the sheets are soft, it’s so comfortably warm, and Ja’far has lately started to realize why Sinbad is always so reluctant to get up in the mornings. The hand softly places itself atop of Ja’far’s hair, starting to pet it. He hums and smiles lazily, but still keeps his eyes closed; it’s been quite a long time since he actually slept in and didn’t get up even before the sun rose, his eyelids trying their damndest to stay up as his tired eyes scan over documents. 

“You’re happy today”, Sinbad’s voice is a lot deeper than his usual one, and Ja’far has to admit that he really likes his morning voice – though it’s mostly because it means that they’ve spent the night together, usually their bodies pressed close to one another, whispering words they will never say in the light of the sun. Sinbad glides his hand from Ja’far’s head down to his bare shoulders, then on top of the sheet, down to his bare thigh.

Ja’far hums again, slowly opening his eyes, quickly adjusting to the bright morning light. The sight makes the strings in his heart tighten; Sinbad is leaning his head on his left hand, his body turned towards Ja’far; the tanned and fit body bare from the waist up – the bottom parts are covered by the cream white sheet that’s covering Ja’far’s. It's a beautiful sight, though many times Ja'far would probably blush at it. This time though, Ja'far's eyes soften; to wake up so peacefully next to the man he loves is something he never thought he'd be able to do.

Ja’far lifts up his left hand, taking a long strand of the purple hair that’s resting against Sinbad’s cheek. Twirling it around his finger, Ja’far breathes deeply, his dark eyes shining with a hue of green in the sunlight filled rom. Sinbad brings his lips to Ja’far’s forehead; pushing his head against Ja’far’s like a purring cat, sneakily gliding his right hand back up on Ja’far’s middle to bring him closer to him.

“We should get up”, Ja’far states but doesn't move from his spot; he brings his hand under Sinbad’s arm as if he’s now clinging onto him, bringing their bare chests close. It’s now Sinbad who hums, nosing Ja’far’s neck which the other man exposes – the side that doesn’t have any markings; Sinbad made a map with his lips on the left side of Ja’far's neck last night.

“It’s Tuesday, it’s fine”, Sinbad says, kissing the place between Ja’far’s jaw and ear, grazing it with his teeth right after, sending light shiver down on the white haired man’s spine. He tugs Ja’far to get closer until he’s basically laying on top of him, the cream white satin sheet gliding down to Ja’far’s bottom.

Ja’far pushes himself a little bit up to stare at Sinbad, smiling lazily. “It is Wednesday, my king.”

“Oh well… I’m sure others can survive this one morning without us.”

Even though the king of Sindria and his generals are supposed to have meetings every morning, there are times when only two or three of them show up – though that’s only when its either super busy so they have other important things to do, or if it’s a slow morning when almost everyone sleeps late. Ja’far, though, has always been present, minus few times when he’s been sick and bedridden, or if he’s been too busy going over documents and not noticing the flow of time.

“I suppose...” Ja’far breathes out, caressing Sinbad’s cheek.

_I truly am blessed_ , Ja’far thinks. If you had told him two months ago that his overflowing feelings towards Sinbad weren’t in fact unrequited, he’d get mad at you for lying so outright to him. Never in a million dreams he couldn't have imagined that during the tenth anniversary week of Sindria, his best friend, his king, the one who he loves the most, would confess to him – most of Ja’far’s dreams always had Sinbad just grab him on a balcony, bring their heads together, say “Ja’far, I love you” before kissing him.

...but none of that matters now; they can kiss each other whenever they want to-- well, not _whenever_ ; they both agreed to keep their relationship on the down low for now - neither of them have ever been in a committed relationship before, and neither of them want to mess this up. They haven’t even told anything to the other generals! Ja’far has to admit that even though it feels bad to keep something like this from their friends, who they both know would support this relationship, the thrill he gets from stealing kisses during the day is worth it.

“Watcha thinking?” Sinbad asks, bringing Ja’far back to reality, taking his hand in his, his eyes shining like honey in the sunlight.

“Hmm… just how lucky I am”, Ja’far says, smiling at him, resting both of his arms on Sinbad’s shoulders, bringing their faces close enough for their noses to touch. Sinbad smiles back at him, both of them closing their eyes when their lips meet. It starts off slow, neither wanting to rush anything during this slow morning, but as Sinbad’s arms tighten around Ja’far’s middle, getting the white haired man to sigh into the kiss, the king start to deepen it, asking more from his lover.

Ja’far’s hands find their way to the back of Sinbad’s head, grabbing the long purple hair. As their lips move against each other, Sinbad’s hand tightens around his waist while the other travels up to his back. The veil of sleepiness has now transformed into the sincerity of years of built up yearning and desire. There's really no need to rush, they have time, but king Sinbad has never been good with waiting - that's how he's always been; charging towards something he wants, never relenting. 

And then, the door swings open.

“Hey, Sinbad, sorry to wake you up, but have you seen Ja’far---” Sharrkan swings the door to the king’s chamber open, but stops in his tracks with Masrur and Yamuraiha behind him when they all see the two men. Like in a painting, the two men in bed have frozen too, still holding onto each other, but their eyes are casted away from the people at the door. Ja’far’s face immediately heats up, and in the back of his mind he’s grateful that the cream white sheet hasn’t slipped completely off of him.

“Uh...” Sinbad glances between the three generals, and out of the five people here, only Masrur still supports a neutral expression; Yamuraiha's cheeks are almost as red as Ja'far's but there is a glimmer of shock and mischievousness in the blue of her eyes, while Sharrkan is biting his bottom lip, obviously trying to stifle his laughter. 

“Sorry for disturbing!” Sharrkan offers them a forced smile, though they can see the glee in his eyes, and he shuts the door, leaving Sinbad and Ja’far still frozen in the bed. They can hear footsteps get farther away, but Ja’far’s ears do catch Sharrkan’s voice saying, “Spartos owns me 20 dinars!” 

A beat of silence follows; Ja'far trying his best to not die from embarrassment - how is he going to be able to look any of those three in the eyes after this - while Sinbad looks like he's pouting for a moment before tugging the man on top of him closer, looking up at him like an excited puppy.

"So... let's continue?"

The embarrassment is immediately swept away, as are Ja'far's feelings of contentment and drowsiness - all of them replaced by a dead stare at Sinbad and a question of his own, "Are you kidding me?"

"W-well, they were gonna find out at some point!" Sinbad immediately argues, not letting go of Ja'far who is wide awake now and starting to get back to his normal mood, which is 'work first, fun later'. The king pouts again, tugging on Ja'far's hair that's been braided to a long braid that reaches his hips now; as much as Ja'far likes it when Sinbad pets it or tugs it, sleeping with long hair flowing free is extremely uncomfortable, especially since it always finds its way to make millions of little knots that take hours to smooth. Ja'far wanted to cut his hair after the anniversary week since it was getting way too much in the way of everyday life and he didn't think it suited him that well, but after Sinbad protested it with an hour long speech with something about _for the good of the kingdom_ or whatever, as well as Pisti finally convincing him that it actually looks good, Ja'far decided to let it grow. Now, braiding it before bed and re-braiding it before twisting it into a low bun in the morning have become a regular in the chief general's day-to-day life. 

"I suppose..." Ja'far mumbles, remembering the looks Hinahoho and Drakon have given him lately, clearly wanting to ask him something but being too afraid to actually do so. They were going to declare their relationship to the other generals at one point, and considering that they all live in the same place and see each other daily, it's tough to keep something like this a secret - especially since Sinbad has been acting extremely different to the Lady-Killer-of-the-Seven-Seas!Sinbad he used to be. Ja'far brings his hands to play with Sinbad's hair, sighing, having an internal conflict on whether he should stay here or get to work since the customs tax in Kinang, a city in Artemyra that supplies most of their wine, has risen 0.45% so they need to rework their budget for the next six months. 

"Ja'far... please... work can wait..." Sinbad whines, pressing his nose against Ja'far's chest, knowing what the other man is thinking about. 

"Yeah..." Ja'far sighs and nods before sliding off of him, walking towards the baths before stopping at the doorway and looking back at his king who looks defeated as he rests against the many pillows on the bed.

"But you can join me, Sin."


End file.
